“I guess he is,” I replied. “He built a cabin, he’s seeing someone in town. He’s happy—and I’m happy for him. She’s a really greatgirl.”
“I sense a but…” Dr. Roothamventured.
“There’s no but,” I replied honestly. “I just…I guess I sometimes wish it could be that easy for me. I wish I could fall in love.” The revelation escaped my lips before I could stop it, and I inhaled deeply. The problem wasn’t that I couldn’t fall in love, the problem was that Iwouldn’tletmyself.
“Why can’t you?” My psychologist actually soundedsurprised.
“I vowed that I would never put myself—or Aiden—in that position again,” I answered, somber. “That kind of love breaksyou.”
I purposely avoided thinking about hazel eyes and blond hair. I wouldn’t allow myself to get sucked into another realm ofmaybesandwhat ifs. Even if my thoughts had no trouble circling back to Travis on theirown.
“I don’t think that’s necessarily true, Becky,” she said, her eyes gently assessing me. “It’s normal, and understandable, to feel hesitant, but I wouldn’t close yourself off to the possibility of something real just because of your past experiences. Not every man will hurtyou.”
I said nothing. I didn’t believe Travis would ever physically harm me, but I didn’t expect to feel what I felt in that hotel room. It unnerved me, it wasn’t simple like I’d hoped, and I resolved that it was done between us. It had to be. There could be no more Travis and me, not in any sense. He had to be my brother’s best friend again, and I had to be his best friend’ssister.
Dr. Rootham’s timer buzzed on her desk, and she sent me an apologetic look. “We’ve made a lot of progress today, Becky, but I’m afraid we’re out oftime.”
“I understand,” I stood up, bringing my purse with me. “Same time nextweek?”
“Absolutely. Take care of yourself Becky—and please remember, you are not a coward. You’ve been through so much and you’re still standing. Try to be a little more forgiving and be kinder toyourself.”
“I’ll try,” I replied, knowing that she wasright.
Four years ago, I picked up the shattered pieces of my heart and spirit and vowed to get better by any means necessary. In the early stages of my recovery, that meant telling Dr. Kennedy about my childhood and my time with Richie and taking the anti-depressants she prescribed to help me cope with my post-traumatic stress disorder. Now, it meant therapy sessions with Dr. Rootham, just to keep my issues at bay, and it meant keeping romantic love the hell away fromme.
I was too fragile forlove.
I would onlybreak.
Travis
October2013
Iwas almost finished recordingthe final track for my upcoming album I’d been working on for the past three months. My last visit to Parry Sound had been incredible for my creative flow. I’d had a lot of good times with my old friends which got my creative juices flowing. There was nothing like being back home, especially when the entire gang was there, includingBrock.
It was the first time I’d seen him in years. Brock had avoided Parry Sound since his release. We were both infamous in this town; we couldn’t go anywhere without people noticing us. Our stories were known by everyone, but the community’s perception of me was pride and awe, while their perception of Brock was judgement andcontempt.
When he left, things didn’t feel the same. With him back, it almost felt like the good old days. It brought back a lot of memories, memories that definitely helped craft the fun in the final three songs I’d written for thealbum.
Then there was the inspiration Becky Miller had left in me. It lingered, this creative high that I felt whenever I thought abouther.
That night had surpassed my expectations. I hadn’t anticipated things to feel so intense with her. I hadn’t counted on feeling a connection as strong as the one I felt with her. I’d had sex with plenty of women before, only I could honestly say that with Becky, it wasdifferent.
Her scars ran deeper than I could have even imagined. The ache and vulnerability in her sky-coloured eyes had told me everything, even though she saidlittle.
She shared a few morsels of information with me before ultimately deciding that serious conversations were off the table for us. I followed her lead, because I wanted to keep the smile on her face…and I was captivated by the way she looked when she feltfree.
After that night together, my mind refused to quit, inspiration was running through my veins. I grabbed my notebook and my acoustic guitar and took a walk down to the docks, where I sat with my legs dangling off the end of the dock and played for hours, pausing only to write down lyrics and musical notes. I worked until the sun rose high over the lake and the blisters on my fingersbled.
I hadn’t composed like that in months, and it birthed one hell of a single to complete thealbum.
In the studio, I played my last guitar riff and crooned the final vocals on one of my favourite new songs,BackForty.
My producer, Rick O’Malley, gave me a standing ovation. “That’s a wrap!” he announced excitedly, tossing a look at my personal assistant. “We’ll put the finishing touches on it, and in the meantime…get some rest! Tour starts in a couple ofweeks!”
“Great!” I said, forcing a smile and ignoring the strange feeling pressing down in my chest. The usual excitement that typically came with a tour was vacant. Instead, I felt a littlehomesick.
The tour was kicking off in November. If I was lucky, I’d get to fly home for Christmas, then it’d be straight back to the tour bus. My next real break wouldn’t come again until the summer, which I’d always insisted weremine.
